Obsidian Shadows
by JustAnotherNerd69
Summary: When the Stark-Rogers family moves from the big city into a historical building, odd things begin to occur when five year-old Peter finds a doorway to their cellar. Or rather, a hell on earth. As odd happenings begin to tamper with their lives and the lives of their friends, you can bet Tony and Steve will have something to do about it. Paranormal Activity AU, Superfamily


AN: I am**not**basing this ******strictly** off of _P____aranormal Activity_, and I am mainly using the second movie. However, anticipate certain similarities. I hope it is enjoyable, for it was simply an idea that needed to get out. I wish to turn this into something great.

"You know Tony," Steve said as he unpacked a box of linens and wash cloths. "I think this place was a good move for us." The tall, muscular, golden-haired man smiled softly, looking around himself to scope out the spacious hallway. It was like a dream; the staircase went up three floors, and he could have laid down and still have about three feet of room in the width of the hallway.

Yet, this house was not as big as the Stark tower, but it was somewhat homey and seemed like more of a, well, house. This was something Steve had always wanted. A house that he owned and lived in with his family. What could be better than this?

"I don't know," Tony mumbled as he set down a box of heavy objects. Steve looked at him, and his thoughts seemed to push themselves away. The happiness of Tony was important to Steve too, and he felt a bit selfish.

Tony stretched his arms as to help his muscles relax, but only succeeded in popping the joints that we're seized up. Steve watched his husband stretch; his Led Zeppelin shirt's sleeves slipping up and revealing his biceps. The blond suppressed a dark blush, since Peter would surely feel uncomfortable to see his adoptive fathers swoon over each other. Not that Steve was not pro showing Peter his love for Tony, and Tony likewise, but the arousal would hardly be suitable or proper for the five and a half-year old.

"What don't you know?" Steve looked towards his partner thoughtfully.

"It is a bit more primitive, than I'M personally used to. But I can always make some bad ass adjustments to this place." Tony felt uneasy in the large home, but he didn't want to make Peter nervous, or Steve feel melancholy. The billionaire knew how much his husband had wanted the house- but why? Tony had no fucking clue.

Steve nodded and thought about how Tony would fix up the house to make it become more "modern", yet he didn't necessarily have any problems with the plethora of technology. Now, it only told him that Tony had something healthy to do that cleared his mind. But until then, he would have to savour the days without having to hear Jarvis' voice every time Tony got out of their bed, or when they took showers, or when they exited and entered the house or when Peter got home from school...etc.

"That would be nice, Tony. Ah, where is Peter?" Steve looked around the hall and towards Peter's bedroom.

"Yo, Peter," Tony called, unloading a box of needless machinery into Steve's closet. The small child did not reply to any of his fathers' calls. From what Tony could grasp, Peter was not in his bedroom, or any room on the second floor of the house for that matter.

"Chill out, Steve. He's probably playing around the halls or other levels. Plus, we were looking at this house for a few years; he hasn't gotten an official tour or anything."

Steve looked towards his husband, and nodded despite his worry. Tony made a face as he fiddled with his cellphone, and strolled into their room.

"Let's finish unpacking then find him. We all need naps. Especially you." At this, Tony made an "aha" noise and flopped on their bed.

"Damn right I do, Steve my boy."

Steve smiled at him and rolled his eyes, going back into the hall and downstairs. He went out and carried in as many heavy boxes as possible, but left most of the light boxes for Tony. That would be amusing.

-•-•-

The two men laid with each other after their task was completed. Peter had been found, and Tony was correct; Peter was scoping out the new home. The house had over fifteen bedrooms, maybe it even had a few hidden ones? It was a historical establishment after all.

Probably why he wanted it so bad, Tony thought to himself, scratching his chest as he looked at the small computer in his lap.

Steve watched him, trying to keep from falling asleep.

"Sleep or something," Tony said, glancing down at his partner. It must have annoyed the poor blond, since the screen was brighter than any average computer. But it was Steve's fault for starring right at it. (especially at that angle. It only made things worse for him.)

"I will eventually." He leaned his head against Tony's side and "eventually" fell asleep. Tony closed the laptop and pulled up the blanket, laying with his husband. Steve's body was warm; like always. The billionaire tried to close his eyes and ignore these odd feelings arising within his subconscious. The house was odd, and creepy. Yet it gave off somewhat- some little tiny feeling- of comfort. But the nervousness and anxiety of this new place was overwhelming.

Why this place, Steve? Why not a nice building in the city? A penthouse apartment? Somewhere with PEOPLE, Tony thought.

Steve snored softly, and nuzzled his head into Tony's arm.

The dark-haired billionaire stroked his husband's blond hair, a bit of the queasy feeling in his gut lifting. It was hard to stay in a darkish doomy place when Steve was laying beside him.

. . .As much as he would try not to show, of course.

Tony may not have had his tower, or Jarvis, or his usual surplus of machinery and gadgets, but he had his family.

He had Steve.

They slept.

-•-•-

Peter stood before the plain white door, staring at the surface as if hypnotized. Inside if the child's heart, he knew something was terribly wrong about this house, and was more than terrified to see what was behind the door in front of him. Peter's small, pale skinned hand gripped the knob, and slowly twisted it open against what he would have wanted.

"Dads-!" he cried inside of his mind, scared of what this awful force would make him do next. The boy's feet moved him through the opening, and down a flight of stairs to the cellar. As the child made his way down the steps, they creaked and made sounds that would be deathly frightening to a boy of five and a half. Like screams, or suffering voices.

An obsidian shadow washed over everything in the cellar; even the light given off from the open door wasn't enough to illuminate the cellar.

An evil voice cackled at the helpless child, and the door to the cellar slammed itself shut. The darkness intentionally trapped itself behind the door, and would not leak itself out too early.

Peter was gone.

HEHEHEHEH. Poor Peter...


End file.
